


Just Shut Up & Kiss Me Already

by Taybay14



Series: Saving people, writing prompts [26]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Angst, Best Friends, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Roommates, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Castiel/Dean Winchester Mutual Pining, Dean thinks he's straight, Denial of Feelings, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Feelings, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Openly Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Pining, Roommates, Sharing a Bed, Thanksgiving, Writer Castiel (Supernatural), poor guy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-24 23:04:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20022496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taybay14/pseuds/Taybay14
Summary: "How about combine #14 Pretend Dating and #29 “Just shut up and kiss me already.”- Adoptdon’tshoppets)** I added some bedsharing into this because I couldn’t help myselfCastiel has to go to yet another Thanksgiving with his parents/family who think he's not living up to his potential. He begs his best friend/roommate of eight years (who just so happens to be the man he loves.... and straight) to come with him for the weekend. The catch? Castiel wants him to pretend to be in a relationship with him to get his parents off his back....Will Castiel survive the weekend?Will Dean be able to continue denying his not so straight feelings towards his best friend?





	Just Shut Up & Kiss Me Already

When Dean finishes laughing, he wipes tears from his eyes and looks at his best friend. His smile slips when he sees that Castiel isn't happy. At all. In fact, Castiel looks devastated. 

"Wait, you're serious?" Dean asks in shock. 

Castiel's face turns bright red. "Yes. It's just… my family is a lot to handle. And they've been on me for years to find someone. It'll be an entire weekend of them making me feel like shit. I just thought it'd be easier to bring you and pretend. But you're right. That's- that would be stupid. I shouldn't have asked, Dean. I'm - I'm sorry." 

"No, no Cas, wait! I just thought you were fucking with me. We can - I mean - sure. Why not, right? It's not like we have to fuck. I don't have to pretend to like you, so it'll be easy.'

Castiel perks up, eyes going wide. "You don't have to pretend?"

"Of course not." Dean grins at him. "You're my best friend, man."

"Oh. Right. Of course. Me too - I - me too. For not having to pretend. Because of the best friend thing." Castiel has to look away from Dean, focusing instead on the plant in the corner. "We leave tomorrow then. Pack a suit."

“A suit?” Dean asks in confusion. “Isn’t it just Thanksgiving at your house?”

Castiel laughs. “No holiday is just a holiday at the Novak’s. Trust me. Bring a suit.”

"Alright." 

Dean starts to laugh and Castiel looks back at him, lifting an eyebrow in question. "What?" 

"Nothin'. Just picturing myself pretending to be gay. I'm gonna rock it. Don't worry, Cas. They'll never know I'm not into dick."

Feeling his face flush and his eyes burn, Castiel forces a fragile smile and nods once. "I know, Dean. You'll be perfect. You always are."

Dean doesn't notice that Castiel is talking about something much bigger than this. It doesn't matter, though. Castiel knew better than to fall in love with a straight man, but he did so anyway. This is his punishment. 72 hours pretending to be in a happy relationship with the man he loves… his straight best friend. 

\----

  
  


Castiel stands in front of the house, feet seemingly glued to the sidewalk. Shifting his duffel bag over his shoulder, Dean looks between his best friend and the house, finally asking, “Is this it?”

“Yup.”

“Are we expecting one of those groups of people that come out with chairs and you get to sit on it and they carry you inside? Because I’m pretty sure that’s like a Jewish thing, and you aren’t Jewish.”

The smile Castiel gives him is full of anxiety, nowhere near what it usually is. Dean has an uncanny talent at making Castiel Novak smile or laugh in the worst of situations, but it’s not working.  _ Shit. It’s not working. How does he help, then? Other than his humor? Dean’s sarcasm and jokes are  _ supposed  _ to work. They’re what he hides behind.  _

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Dean says in a soft - hopefully comforting - voice, “Everything will be alright, Cas. You said they’re not that bad, right?”

“Right. Just extremely judgemental, with high expectations that set you up to fail, while all skilled at the art of passive aggressiveness.” Castiel finally looks Dean in the eyes, this time his smile so sad it breaks Dean’s heart. “It will be alright. I know. Just - I’m just trying to get the energy.”

“Take your time.”

Just as Dean is saying this, the front door is opening and a woman in a pristine form-fitting white dress and black heels calls, “Whatever do you think you’re doing out here, Castiel? The neighbors probably think you’ve gone insane. Get inside! It’s freezing.”

Releasing a deep sigh, Castiel steps forward. “Happy Thanksgiving,” he mumbles to himself. He startles when Dean slips his hand in his, big blue eyes looking up at him in shock. Then he must remember that they’re in a fake relationship because he squeezes back in thanks and smiles a genuine smile. The first one since they arrived. 

Alright, if humor won’t work, then Dean will do this. He’ll be the perfect boyfriend. Dean will touch Castiel constantly, in one way or another, and never leave his side. 

  
  


\----

“So, Dean. You and Castiel have been friends for quite a while, right?” Mrs. Novak says with a clearly fake smile, eyes narrowed in on him. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean smiles at Castiel, reaching beneath the table and touching his knee. Castiel doesn’t understand why he keeps doing that. Touching him. Always fucking touching him. Can’t he tell he sets Castiel’s body on fire every time his fingertips brush him? “Roommates freshman year. I think I met you when he moved into the dorm, ma’am.”

“Ah. Yes.” She smirks as she reaches for her glass of wine. “The boy with the posters.”

If Dean catches onto that being an insult, he doesn’t show it. Before he can respond to Castiel’s mom, though, Castiel’s father steps in. “What was it that you were majoring in again, Mr. Winchester? Do you work?”

Castiel wants to roll his eyes but refrains. 

“Biomedical Engineering, sir,” Dean answers. “I am currently heading a team to work on artificial organ development.”

“Impressive. It’s always good when someone gets a practically degree,” Castiel’s father says casually. 

“Yes,” his mother agrees. “A degree with an actual career. You’re very smart, Dean. Lucifer and Michael are both doctors. Have you spoken to them?” she asks, gesturing to the two brothers to Dean’s left. 

Lucifer looks at Dean with a judgemental eye scan. “We’ll have to discuss the work you’re doing over some scotch and cigars after dessert.”

One look at Dean, and Castiel knows he wants so badly to tell Lucifer he’s more of a beer and cigarettes kind of guy, but Dean says nothing. He just gives Lucifer a curt nod and takes a drink of his wine that Castiel knows he hates, because Dean winces after every sip.

“And Anna,” his mother adds, gesturing to Castiel’s only sister. “She’s in law school. And Gabriel is pursuing a phD.”

Dean squeezes Castiel’s knee without looking at him. “Castiel is working on his second novel. Has he told you about it?”

“Mmm,” Castiel’s mother says, flicking her eyes at her son in disgust. “Yes. Well. Brave of him, after the first one.”

“The first one did well,” Dean defends.

“Yes. You’re right, Dean. For a man just starting out, I suppose it did fine.”

“Actually-” Dean starts, but Castiel jumps in before his best friend of eight years throws himself on the train tracks to defend him. “Mother, the meal was lovely.”

His mother gives him a sickly sweet smile. “Yes, well, it’s all Greta could do with all of her preparations for Thanksgiving tomorrow.”

“Castiel,” Mr. Novak says abruptly. “Have you thought anymore about how you’ll be using your trust fund?”

“I already told you, father,” Castiel nearly growls. “I’m donating it.”

“Of course. Yes. Taking care of those who are too lazy to take care of themselves.” His father scoffs. “My liberal son. Pride and joy.”

Gabriel groans from the other side of the table where Castiel has been watching him sneak bites of the dessert while everyone was too distracted being assholes with fake smiles. “Politics is where I draw the line. Can we all just stop talking about jobs and views and money? Let’s have dessert. Doesn’t it look delicious?”

Everyone, even Castiel’s parents, smiles fondly at Gabriel. The middle child who has no pressure on him for some reason Castiel’s never understood. Gabriel changed majors like outfits. Slept around. Took two extra years to graduate. Got arrested in Mexico once and needed their father to help get him back here and free of any charges. His phD? It’s in fucking philosophy. 

Castiel sinks back in his chair and takes a deep breath as the dessert begins to get dished out. It’s then that he realizes that Dean still has his hand on Castiel’s leg, skimming his thumb back and forth along his jeans. Tentatively, Castiel places his hand over Dean’s. Their fingers slot together and Castiel hasn't felt so grounded, so safe, in a long time. 

  
  


\----

  
  


"You can have the bed," Castiel says softly, looking completely drained. "I'll sleep on the floor." 

Dean rolls his eyes as he starts to unbuckle his belt. "Don't be ridiculous. You'll sleep with me."

Castiel's eyes track Dean's every move, something he hasn't done in years. Dean knows Castiel always found him attractive, but Castiel stopped looking at Dean like he is now once he found out Dean's straight. Then they became best friends. He barely looks at Dean at all anymore, always paying attention to the world instead. 

Before, it had made Dean uncomfortable. He would always turn his back. Undress quickly. Jump under the covers.

Not anymore. 

Dean kind of likes it. He refuses to analyze why. 

Instead, he focuses on taking his time. Stepping out of his jeans and slowly reaching behind his head to grab his shirt, Dean looks at Castiel again. Their eyes meet. Castiel's hands are paused in the middle of unbuttoning his cardigan, his smooth pale chest and stomach exposed to Dean's gaze. Dean has been dragging him to the gym to keep him from sitting at home too much. He didn't do it with the intention of making Castiel look any better, because Castiel always looks good - not like… in a gay way - but Dean finds himself appreciating the view now. 

_ Why does he feel like this looking at Castiel? _ Sure, he's had these urges before. Ever since he met him even. But they were always explainable. Like when Dean walked in on Castiel watching porn and jacking off, and Dean had to force himself to leave instead of offering help - something completely justified because porn makes anyone horny, right? So of course he hesitated. Porn is distracting. Hot. Other times, the pull comes when they're drunk - clearly Dean's inhibitions are lowered and his mind isn't thinking clearly. There was the one time, when Castiel got this douchebag boyfriend and Dean found him screaming in Castiel's face one night, Dean beat the shit out of him and then looked at Castiel whose face was covered in tears and told him he deserved better - but that was just Dean being protective of his best friend. Sometimes it's really late at night, when Dean can't sleep and Castiel keeps him company - but that's because of Dean's exhaustion, that's all. Sometimes it-

Dean looks away from Castiel and hurries to pull his shirt over his head, hiding his face as the realization hits him. He feels like this too often. All the fucking time.  _ What does that mean? Why does he want to slam Castiel against the wall and fuck him right now? Why does he want to lay him down on that bed and give him comforting kisses? _

  
  


\---

  
  


If Castiel didn't know better, he'd think Dean was checking him out. Of course, after 8 years, he knows better. Dean's straight. Even if Castiel sometimes feels like Dean wants him, like when he walked in on Castiel masturbating that one time and stared in awe as he licked his lips, or when they go out to the bars or parties and they get a little too drunk and Dean gets a little too close, or when Castiel was dating Jason and Dean beat him up for yelling at Castiel and calling him names, and Dean wiped the tears from Castiel's face as he whispered softly about Castiel deserving better, or when Castiel keeps Dean company if Dean has his nightmares and they cuddle without calling it cuddling on the couch, but Castiel knows those times mean nothing. Just wishful thinking, same as right now. 

Castiel climbs into the bed quickly, pulling the covers up to hide his body. He's suddenly regretting his habit of sleeping in boxers. If he tried to wear pjs, Dean would call him out, because Dean knows Castiel can't stand sleeping with clothes on. The downfall of living with the man for 8 years now. Dean knows everything. Except,  _ hopefully,  _ the fact that Castiel is in love with him.

Dean climbs in beside Castiel and if Castiel didn't know better - which, once again, he does - he'd think Dean was closer to him than he needed to be on the big bed. Their bare shoulders press close together and Castiel's body erupts in goosebumps. 

"So, your family," Dean starts.

"Yeah."

"Gabe's cool."

Castiel laughs softly, nodding. "He is."

"I had a beer with him out on the porch while you went off with Anna. From the sound of it, you're more successful and put together than he is." 

"I've never really understood it, but for some reason that doesn't matter to anyone."

"Well, it should." Dean scoffs. "And your book. How can they say that's not good? It was a bestseller, and it was brilliant. Your writing, Cas, it - it's so fucking good. And I'm not saying that out of obligation."

Feeling his face heat up, Castiel looks away from Dean and toward the wall. "I doubt any of them have read it, besides Gabe."

This makes Dean adjust in the bed. Out of curiosity, Castiel looks back at him. He shouldn't have. Dean is up on an elbow, staring down at him with those beautiful green eyes wide. "Seriously? Fuck. I hate them. Family doesn't do this. Doesn't treat you like this."

"It's okay, Dean."

"It's not!"

"Dean." Castiel gently pulls Dean until he's lying down again. They both turn on their sides so they can look at each other in the dim lamp light. "It doesn't matter. I've got my own family. People I can count on and trust. People who love me for me and cheer me on even in the worst of times. Charlie. Chuck. Balthazar. Sam." He pauses, biting his bottom lip, then whispers, "You."

This seems to make Dean feel better because his body relaxes. "Then why did we come instead of going to friendsgiving with everyone?" 

"Because I want Christmas with you guys, and my family would fucking explode if I skipped both."

Dean sighs. Castiel can tell he's frustrated, but Dean also understands. He has his own set of family issues. 

"We'll get through this, Cas. Together. I promise."

"Yeah," Castiel whispers, noticing that Dean just settled his hand on Castiel's hip. His thumb starts doing the stroking thing again. He wants to ask Dean why he's touching him when no one is around to see the show, but he's afraid it would make him stop. When Castiel says, "Together," as a confirmation, his voice is breathy and embarrassing. 

He hopes Dean doesn’t notice. 

  
  


\----

  
  


Dean wakes up from one of his constant nightmares. He slips out of the bed, not wanting to wake Castiel, and tugs on a pair of sweats. The Novak house is ridiculously huge but he eventually finds his way to the kitchen. Hopefully after a glass of water and maybe a sneak outside for some fresh air, he’ll be able to fall asleep again. It’s wishful thinking. The only way Dean ever falls back asleep after his nightmares is if Castiel talks to him. He always does this thing where he plays with Dean’s hair, speaking in this incredibly smooth voice that sends these waves of calm over Dean. He never even says anything important. Just rambles about things like plot arcs or character development or some article he read about cats. 

The memories make Dean smile, but then an overwhelming surge of panic floods him like it did earlier. Something is happening between him and Castiel. Something that Dean thinks has been happening for years. 

Something Dean can't keep ignoring. 

Just as Dean is taking his water and heading toward the sliding door that leads to the deck out back, he catches movement to his right. He turns his head and comes face to face with Gabriel, Castiel's brother. The man looks quite somber compared to his earlier goofiness. In fact, he might even look angry. 

"Can't sleep?" Gabriel grunts, giving Dean a look Dean has no idea how he earned. 

"Uh. No. Never really can." Dean awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. "You?"

"I sleep just fine." Gabriel looks at the doors Dean was obviously about to open. "Mind if I join you?"

Dean wants to say  _ yes _ because Gabriel looks upset and he's kind of afraid to find out why, but instead he nods and leads the way. The second the doors are closed behind them, Gabriel is stalking toward Dean. 

"Listen up, Winchester. If you're playing a fucking game with him, or if you're just trying out the whole gay thing for funsies, I'll fucking destroy you. He can lie all he wants to everyone else about you two being together for months now and all that bullshit, but he talks to me all the time. I know the real story. And I think you're sick for fucking with his heart like this."

Opening and closing his mouth in shock, Dean manages to sputter out, "What? What story?"

"I know you two are faking Dean. I'm the one that gave him the fucking idea. Except he wasn't supposed to ask  _ you _ , but apparentally my brother is a masochist." Before Dean can ask him to elaborate, Gabriel continues his rant. "But I saw you with him today. The looks you keep giving him. The touching even when no one is around. That stupid charming smile. He's loved you for 8 years now, and no I don't feel bad about telling you that because it's not like it was a secret, right Dean? You've known. Guys like you always know."

Dean's throat starts to close and his hands shake. This is what he came out here to think about, but he didn't plan to get it shoved down his fucking throat. He can't breathe. 

Gabriel fills the open silence. He's apparentally quite good at that. "Just let the poor guy go if you don't want him, Dean. Stop this."

"I'm not doing anything," Dean finally says, his voice shaky and weak. 

"Come on buddy. Don't pretend you're stupid. You're not."

"I don't-" Dean stops himself. He hangs his head and closes his eyes. "I don't know what to do. What I want. I - I'm not gay."

Gabriel scoffs. "Who the fuck cares? That's a label. Nothing more."

When Dean looks up at him, feeling a confused but desperate hope swelling in his chest, Gabriel rolls his eyes. "Do you love my brother?"

"Yes." It's not even a question. 

"Do you find him attractive?"

"I - yeah."

"Not in the 'oh yeah I'll admit that man is good looking' way but in the 'holy shit he's so fucking hot and beautiful and I need to kiss him' way."

Blushing, Dean looks out at the darkness that should be the yard. Part of him wants to jump into it and let it swallow him whole. The other wants to finally step into the light and tell the fucking truth. To Gabe. To Castiel. To himself. 

"Yeah," he whispers to the darkness. 

"Are you in love with him?" 

Dean closes his eyes.  _ Is he?  _ He's never been before. Always thought he was one of those people that can't. It's supposed to be all crazy butterflies, right? Adrenaline. Intoxicated feelings as you kiss and fuck. Screaming matches in fits of passion. Getting drunk off smiles. Unable to breathe without each other. A rollercoaster. Isn't that what people are always comparing it to?

When Dean thinks of Castiel, he doesn't think of chaos or instability. Dean thinks of soft rain on the roof as they lay together on the couch in the middle of the night. He thinks of safety. Peace. Warmth. Calm. When Dean thinks of Castiel, he thinks of home. 

If it's up to Dean, he thinks that's what love should be like. The lighthouse in the storm. 

"I have to tell him," Dean tells Gabriel. 

"No," Gabriel says quietly. 

It's so unexpected that Dean flinches. "What?"

"Tell him when you get home, Dean."

"Why?"

Gabriel chuckles, but it's dry. "For one? You need to think this over, because I'm serious about the killing you thing. You better fucking be sure before talking to him. And second? Do you really want to do that here? His least favorite place in the damn world? Where you can't, ya know, celebrate? Hell, can't even have a deep conversation about it?"

Dean grits his teeth. Gabriel is right. 

But he's already waited 8 fucking years. 

Dean's not sure he will survive another 24 hours.

  
  


\----

  
  


Castiel stabs another piece of turkey, causing Dean to jump for the third time beside him. He avoids what he knows is a concerned look from his best friend by focusing on his plate instead. 

"-just saying," his mother continues, as if she can't see Castiel is clearly upset. "The least you could do is be a father. That's useful. What do you do all day? Sit around and read books? Write? Those are hobbies. At least be a stay at home father if you're so set on not having a real career." 

"When I grow a womb," Castiel growls, emphasizing the last syllable with another stabbed piece of turkey. "I'll let you know, mother."

"Well, you could adopt. Or do a surrogate. You have the money, thanks to us of course." His mother turns her fake smile onto Dean. "Do you want children, Dean?" 

Castiel closes his eyes as he feels Dean tense up beside him. For the first time all weekend, Castiel touches Dean first, pushing his crush aside and being a good friend by placing a hand on his thigh. He squeezes once. A silent apology. Dean's hand rests over his, holding him there. 

For a moment, Castiel is back in their apartment, senior year of college. Dean wasted beyond belief, crying with his head in Castiel's lap. Admitting he can't ever be a father. Believing he has too much of John Winchester in his blood to even risk it.

"No, ma'am. I don't think it's in the cards for me," Dean says in a strangled voice. 

"Why not?"

"That's personal, mother," Castiel says through gritted teeth. 

His mother just shrugs. "I just want to make sure it's not a financial thing. You could always keep your trust fund, you know. Use it to make Dean happy."

"God dammit, mother!" Castiel bursts, his fork clattering to the table. He can feel his eyes burning and his throat clogging, so he hurries to choke out what he wants to say before he falls apart. "Dean's going to be happy, okay? Wanna know why? He's not with me. It's all a lie. So don't feel bad for Dean, the poor biomedical engineer who is stuck with your sorry excuse of a son, because he's not. He's free to be with some ambitious blonde bimbo for all I care!"

As he shoves away from the table and storms off, Castiel hears his father barking at him to not speak to his mother like that and come back and apologize. Castiel just scoffs. He tries to slam the door of his bedroom, planning to immediately pack his and Dean's shit so they can go, but something stops the door and the satisfying slam never comes. He turns and finds Dean quietly closing the door instead.

He looks gorgeous in his suit. Castiel has had to keep himself from telling him that all night. Now that he's drunk and clearly not thinking straight, he's worried it might pour out if he opens his mouth, so he keeps it firmly sealed. 

"Thank you," Dean begins, still looking at the door. "You didn't have to do that. I could have handled it." 

Castiel calculates every word, every syllable, before cautiously parting his lips. "You shouldn't have to handle it, Dean. I'm sorry for even making you do this in the first place." 

"Cas-"

"Can we just go?" 

"Yes. Of course." Without another word, Dean begins to pack alongside him. They move together in a comfortable silence that, under the circumstances, shouldn't be able to even exist. That's something he always loved about Dean. His willingness to just  _ be _ . It's hard to find people like that. People who can settle the storm inside your soul and make it so you can breathe. 

.

No one tries to stop them. Castiel gets a wink from Gabriel when they pass by with their bags, and he gives him a nod back. They'll see each other in a week or two, Castiel is sure. They'll probably talk on the phone tomorrow. But Castiel won't out Gabriel to his parents. Not when Castiel just raised his status in the family from the black sheep the public enemy number one.

"Where to?" Dean asks when he slides behind the wheel. 

Castiel looks out the window, hoping to hide that he's crying. "Home."

  
  


\----

  
  


They don't get home until two in the morning. Dean feels dead on his feet, especially since he didn't sleep the night before, but Castiel is more important. The man is a breath away from breaking down. Dean needs to stop him. 

"Bottle of wine and popcorn," Dean instructs when they drop their bags on the floor beside the front door. "I'll turn on Queer Eye."

Castiel smiles softly. "It's late, Dean. You're tired."

"Wait a minute. Mark the calendar. Castiel Novak just  _ turned down  _ an opportunity to watch Queer Eye!" 

"I hate you." Castiel tries to glare at him but it's a pathetic attempt. He ends up dramatically sighing and rolling his eyes. "Fiiiine. One episode. Grab the big blanket from my room, too. It's cold in here."

Five minutes later, they're pressed close together in the middle of the couch - even though there's plenty of room on each side of them - covered in Castiel's huge purple fuzzy blanket, eating popcorn and drinking Moscato. 

Halfway through the episode, just as Antoni is about to teach what sounds like a delicious dessert, Dean pauses it. He can't wait any longer. 

Castiel looks over at him in confusion, and something on Dean's face must give him away because Castiel's body tenses. "What's wrong?"

"I need to talk to you." Dean clears his throat, unsure of where to even start. "I've been thinking about this for longer than I'd like to admit, but I don't know. Just - promise no matter what, we stay friends, okay? I just have to get it off my chest and then we can move on if that's what you want to do."

Instead of looking confused or curious like Dean expected, Castiel looks terrified. His hands tighten around the blanket until his knuckles turn white. "Dean, I'm sorry. I never-"

"No. Wait. Just let me - I need to say it, Cas. Please?"

"Yeah, okay," Castiel whispers, looking ready to cry. "Go ahead."

"I never told you this, but you were the first openly gay person I ever met. In a town like mine growing up, no one would dare come out. So, when we met and we started living together, I was - I dunno. I was curious, I guess? I dunno. It felt so wrong I guess. Not  _ wrong  _ just - shit, this isn't going like I want it to." Dean rakes a hand through his hair. "You were just this thing that everyone told me growing up was bad and to stay away from, but I just  _ couldn't,  _ and not because you were my roommate but because you were like this forbidden fruit. So the first time I - the first time I felt anything, toward you I mean, I thought it was that. Just the allure of the mystery. Fascination."

Castiel shakes his head. "I don't-"

"Let me finish. Please. Just - let me explain."

"Okay."

Dean launches to his feet and begins to pace. "Then we became best friends, and the pull I felt was stronger. But it wasn't sexual. I didn't want to fuck you. I just wanted - fuck, I don't know. I wanted you safe. Happy. I wanted to be the one you came to on the best and the worst days. I told myself it was because we were getting to be like brothers. And whenever it felt like more than that, I rationalized it away. Reasoned with myself. Convinced myself." 

Hoping to gauge how this mess is going so far, Dean pauses, taking in Castiel's features. The man is flushed and slightly trembling, but his brows are raised and his eyes are wide with what is unmistakably hope. 

_ Please let it be the right kind of hope.  _

"I won't go through 8 years, Cas. It would take days, if I'm being honest, because once I admitted it to myself I realized I've been lying for so fucking long. Since the beginning."

"The beginning of what? Lying about what?" Castiel asks, his voice vibrating lower than usual. 

"The beginning of us. And lying to myself about it. About what was really going on. What I was feeling. What I wanted."

"Dean, I don't-"

"I'm in love with you, Cas," Dean blurts, unable to choke it down any longer. Then everything - 8 years worth of things - comes pouring out. "I love the way you say you hate my music but secretly sing along under your breath. I love your hair in the mornings, and your sleepy smile. Your stupid ugly socks. Your books all over the place, usually still open like you just got up mid sentence and never came back. I love that you get into fights with the characters you write. I love that, without fail, you end up reading the entire Harry Potter series every fall, because the pumpkins remind you of that scene in book one, and according to you you can't just read book one and then 'abandon' the characters like that. I love that you will literally throw down and fight anyone who doesn't agree that Faulkner is a brilliant writer. I love that you're always losing or breaking your glasses. What are you on now, since we met, huh? Pair 30? 31?"

"33," Castiel breathes. 

"Exactly." Dean grins. "I love that. I love - I love all of it. I love you. I love-"

"Dean."

Dean's breath catches.  _ Oh no. He's going to stop Dean. Castiel is going to tell him he doesn't feel the same way.  _

Gathering himself, Dean meets those familiar blue eyes and whispers, "Yeah?" 

"Just shut up and kiss me already."

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr @ Destiel-love-forever!


End file.
